Life with Music

Around the World in Nice, France


August 2010


The cedars whispered, watched, and listened

They love to see when young hearts glisten

These mighty protectors tower above

Stopping rain just to hear young love

The newcomers sit, now properly sheltered

Restful silence lets restless minds swelter

In carved seats under heavy branches

They carve sweet songs between fleeting glances

With all words spoken, while silence bears down

The two forms begin to root in the ground

The cedars are old, and have become quite eager

So feed our newcomers a confident ether

One hand extends, received by another

Wishing eyes seek for a smile uncovered

Drawn to their dreams, ready lips meet

Under the cedars, we feel complete


The Stone

The stone knows.

The stone was born from the savage heat that scorns our flesh

The stone was shaped by the cool life breeze

(The stone takes change one breath at a time, too)

Stirred from passive rest, we are called to roll

The heavens shake us to action,

shouting prophetic warnings,

blasting apart the very ground we rest upon.

The stone was tossed by waves; careless as ignorance

The stone landed on sands; compassionate as criticism

He turns over the smooth weight in his hand, again, and again.

It is placed, so gently, on the tallest tower

of his sandy castle walls, earning a subtle place in his heart.

He wonders, wishes – if only this stone understood!

If only he knew what the stone knows.

Blog at

Up ↑